The Hardest Part of Motherhood

It's wildly painful to watch our children go through difficult chapters.

Allowing it to happen goes against every instinct I have as a mother. My job is to protect them, prevent harm, provide safety, offer comfort, and make sure they have everything they need. When they are hurting, every part of me wants to step in and make that pain disappear. Every night I pray over my daughters, asking God to grow them in all the right ways.

But are protection and growth the same thing? As parents, we naturally think of providing for our children in terms of safety, comfort, and security. Yet some of the most important things our children need can't be handed to them or "protected into existence". They are developed through experience, challenge, and perseverance. I'm learning as a parent, that some things in life just can't be taught. All this thinking brought me to the word nourishment.

Nourishment is often defined as the substances necessary for growth, health, and good condition. When I look at it through that lens, I have to ask myself: Is shielding my children from all pain actually aligned with helping them grow in all the meaningful ways?

That question doesn't lessen the ache of watching them suffer. It doesn't make the tears easier to see or the unfairness easier to accept. But it does offer perspective.

A few days ago, I was talking with my teenage daughter about something happening in her life that is completely outside of her control. It's definitely not fair. It's wholly wrong. I can make the argument that she is too young, too innocent, too precious to be carrying something so heavy.

As we talked, I found myself pausing, not just for her, but for me too. I reminded both of us of something I've observed in my life: the most interesting people I have ever met, the people I admire most, are often the ones who have endured the hardest things. Not because suffering itself is admirable. It isn't. But because adversity has a way of revealing character. It teaches empathy, courage, resilience, and perspective. It shapes people in ways comfort never can.

As I sat there with her, I was reminded that my role as a mother is not only to shield my daughters from hardship. It is also to teach them how to face it.

To teach courage when they are afraid.

To teach bravery when they feel small.

To teach acceptance when life is unfair.

To teach resilience when they feel overwhelmed.

And to choose acceptance over resentment.

The truth is, life is hard. No one gets through it unscathed. Everyone encounters disappointment, heartbreak, injustice, loss, and circumstances we never would have chosen.

What matters most is what we do next.

How do we show up for the inevitable adversity?

How do we move through it instead of allowing it to define us?

How do we come to terms with the fallout while still holding onto hope?

How do we grow in strength of character and not resentment?

Those are the lessons I want my daughters to learn.

Not that life will always be easy, fair, or predictable.

But that they are capable.

Capable of enduring hard things.

Capable of finding meaning in difficult seasons.

Capable of getting back up when life knocks them down.

And perhaps the greatest gift I can give them is not a life free from pain, but the confidence that they can survive it, grow from it, and emerge stronger because of it.

As much as I wish I could protect them from every hurt, maybe true nourishment isn't found in removing all the obstacles. Maybe it's found in walking beside them as they discover their own strength, while keeping the faith that this is the very foundation that the success of their lives will be built upon.